


The Snake and the Otter

by Therapeutic_Steter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Peter Hale Feels, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: Steter Week Prompt November 29: Soulmates, Mates, and Anchors AUWhen Stiles was born, a black snake appeared into his crib on the first full moon and never left.Claudia, whose soulmate animal was a lion, hadn't even flinched, smiling and cooing at the little snake in welcome. It flicked its tongue at her, beady eyes sparking blue, and let Claudia gently stroke it's head. John, whose soulmate animal was a bear, just shook his head, wondering at what kinds of trouble his son and his soulmate would get in to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s another one in a new style. This is actually sort of a combination of the prompt from November 24: Season One Rewrite. I’ve been thinking about soulmate animals a lot lately.

When Stiles was born, a black snake appeared into his crib on the first full moon and never left.

Claudia, whose soulmate animal was a lion, hadn't even flinched, smiling and cooing at the little snake in welcome. It flicked its tongue at her, beady eyes sparking blue, and let Claudia gently stroke its head. John, whose soulmate animal was a bear, just shook his head, wondering at what kinds of trouble his son and his soulmate would get in to.

Stiles was five when his snake's name came to him, smiling as they played outside.

"Peter," he said simply, and the snake hissed, flicking its tongue and slithering around him, now almost three feet long. Stiles giggled, stroking its head. “Peter,” he said again, softer. The snake curled around his wrist and Stiles held it close.

Stiles was nine when the bear snapped at him. Stiles was coloring on the ground next to it, had dropped a crayon and leaned closer to the resting bear to reach a new one. The bear had jerked awake, snapping its impressive jaws, and Stiles had been paralyzed in fear. His snake struck at the bear, hissing angrily and coiling between the two protectively. When Stiles’ dad came down the stairs, he'd been too afraid to say anything, instead grabbing his snake and rushing upstairs to his room. Soul animals reflected the soul whom they represented and he didn't know what to think about what that meant.

Stiles was forced to acknowledge it a few months later though when his mom looked at him one morning before school, and it was like she didn't recognize him. He smiled and offered to help with breakfast like usual and she slapped him before shoving him away, screaming for his father. John told him she didn't mean it, that it was an accident, but Stiles couldn't go near the bear without it growling at him.

Stiles was eleven when his mom started withering, the sickness wasting her away. She only remembered him sometimes, only remembered loving him even less so. She wasn't allowed to be alone with him; if he was visiting, his dad or the lion had to be there. He couldn't even be within sight of the bear. His snake watched her from its perch around his neck, always mistrustful since the first time she’d hit him. She never apologized, even on better days. Stiles cried himself to sleep a lot, with only his snake to see.

Stiles’ mom died before he turned twelve. The bear faded away with her, gone from sight as all soul animals went. The lion followed his dad now, mournful and halved.

Stiles tried to be the perfect son, hid his tears in his pillow, washed his dad's uniforms even though he used too much soap the first few times, tried to cook and clean and keep the house from falling down around them. His dad drank and slept and worked. He didn't look at him; couldn't maybe, Stiles thought, remembering how many times he'd been told his eyes were just like his mom's. Every morning he looked in the mirror in the bathroom and wanted to rip them out. Maybe then his daddy would look at him, would love him again. Then Stiles would brush his teeth, push the thought away, and let his snake curl around his neck as he went to start the day.

Stiles was thirteen and asleep when his snake let out an awful hiss, writhing on his bed. Stiles jerked awake, eyes wild as he hovered frantically, watching his snake in pain and unable to do anything about it. Stiles cried, yelling for his dad who came running down the hall, stumbling through the door blindly and holding his pistol, searching for the intruder. John looked at his son's snake and felt his heart drop, setting his gun on the table and pulling his son into a hug. Stiles sobbed, hiccuping and unable to breath. His snake writhed for hours before it finally lay still. The house phone rang but John ignored it, awareness of his neglect and shame crashing down on him as he let silent tears track down his face for the pain his son was experiencing. Stiles carefully crawled forward when the snake stilled, brushing his fingers down its scales hesitantly before curling around it on the bed. The snake didn't disappear and Stiles’ soul animal didn't appear, so his soulmate must still live, even though the unnatural stillness of the snake still left terror in his veins for his boy. When the phone rang again, he hesitated before rushing to grab it, figuring an emergency had happened at work.

Stiles was thirteen when he met his soulmate. Peter Hale lied in the bed, scars marring his features, with a sullen otter at his side. Stiles crawled into the bed at his side, ignoring the nurse’s instruction, and curled up against the man. Silent tears leaked from his eyes and onto Peter's hospital gown, but no one made a sound. His snake lay limp on Peter's chest where Stiles had gently placed him. The otter let out a soft cry and cuddled under Stiles’ chin. John found him hours later, asleep and clutching at the comatose man's hospital gown. His heart ached and he fought not cry at the sight.

When Stiles was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, he visited his soulmate almost every day. The otter stayed when he couldn’t and Stiles kept his snake wrapped around his neck gently, always petting it softly and speaking to it just as he spoke to Peter. It never moved, never flinched, but Peter breathed easier, his scars just a little less severe with every month, and Stiles counted it as working. He ignored the sad looks he got, the pity and people who thought he should just give up. He knew there were other survivors, that the whole Hale family hadn't died, but he never saw them and he only asked once. He felt anger that they had just left. Even as his mom had wasted away, had hated him, he'd stayed at her side. To think that someone would do less for one they loved disgusted him. John begged him to only go to the hospital once a week, said it wasn't healthy, said he needed other friends, but Stiles thought about his soulmate sitting there by himself with no other visitors and he couldn't do it.

John put everything together when Stiles was seventeen, and Kate and Gerard Argent were arrested and tried for several counts of murder, among other charges. Kate got multiple life sentences. Gerard got lethal injection. A month after sentencing, the prison had a riot and Kate was found with multiple stab wounds hanging from the rafters of the bathroom. Stiles spat on their graves and with glee told Peter revenge had been served. He'd felt more like a snake than an otter on that day.

Stiles was eighteen when his soulmate woke up.

“You must be Stiles,” were the first words from Peter's throat, voice rough and scratchy. He broke into a coughing fit and Stiles quit staring long enough to help him sip at a cup of water.

“You kept me waiting a long time,” Stiles croaked out, tears welling up.

Peter smiled and the snake stirred, nuzzling against Stiles’ chin and flicking its tongue out to scent the air. “Never again,” he vowed.

Stiles leapt onto the bed, embracing Peter tightly, and the man lifted heavy limbs to return in. The otter made a loud chirping sound, bouncing across Peter's lap excitedly and Stiles laughed for what felt like the first time in years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little sequel/epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't get this world out of my mind, so I decided to write a little sequel/continuation. Feels and fluff incoming. 
> 
> Note: this is set about 5-6 years after the first part. Also, I didn't explicitly state it, but Stiles is a police officer.

Peter smiled down at the otter in his lap, playing with its rock happily. His hand ran down its smooth belly and the otter chirped happily before going back to playing. Peter looked down at his desk, reading through the next report that needed his attention.

Suddenly, the otter screeched, an unpleasant ringing that cut off too short. It fell from his lap, still and silent.

Peter stared, horror dawning on him as he reached to cuddle the otter closer and frantically grabbing at his phone.

“Please answer, please answer, please--”

“ _Hey, sorry I can't answer the phone, I'm--_ ”

Peter hung up on Stiles voicemail, hands shaking as he tried to dial John’s number.

“Peter--” John started when he answered.

“Is he okay?” Peter demanded, voice almost breaking. He'd spent so long waiting for his soulmate, had had to wait fifteen years before his little otter’s name had even come to him, and now...now…

“He was in a car accident,” John said, voice strained and Peter could hear the sirens over the line. “Guy tried to run during a traffic stop and hit Stiles’ car trying to get away. They're taking Stiles to the hospital. He was out cold when they called me to let me know.”

“I’m coming too,” Peter said, standing and rushing for the door, otter held in his arms.

“Okay,” John said, sounding tired and scared and everything Peter felt. “Be careful.”

…..

Peter sat beside the hospital bed, an odd sense of bitter irony panging through him. He didn't know how Stiles had managed for years to sit at his bedside because this was surely torture. He'd laid his otter beside the boy on the bed. Both were too still. Stiles and his otter tended to fidget endlessly, restless and hyper even in sleep. His snake was coiled on Stiles chest, head nuzzled under Stiles’ chin, right over his pulse-point. Peter held Stiles’ hand and hid his eyes that were brimming with tears.

“He's going to be okay,” John said, coming in. “The doctor said he should wake up in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. He'll have a knot on his head for a while and some bruised ribs but nothing lasting.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement, scared to speak lest his voice reveal how terrified he was. John rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“I know,” John murmured. A whimper escaped and John squeezed harder. Peter ignored the trembling in the man’s fingers, knowing he was shaking himself.

The next twenty-four hours were nerve-wracking. Peter could hardly stand to leave Stiles’ side. The snake had moved to curl around Peter’s own neck, which had freaked Peter out more than he’d like to admit, but his otter was still there and so was Stiles.

Peter jerked awake when the sheets shifted, sitting up and watching Stiles’ face like a hawk. Stiles groaned, heart monitor speeding up as Stiles slowly woke to the world. Relief came crashing into Peter when Stiles’ beautiful eyes fluttered open. He was quick to turn off the room’s main lights, letting Stiles adjust to the dimmer lighting.

“Here,” he said, offering a cup of water he had. Stiles feebly took the cup and Peter helped him sip at it. Stiles hummed as the cooling liquid soothed his throat.

“Thanks,” he murmured, drinking the rest. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” Peter said, smiling as the otter rolled and stretched. The snake returned to Stiles, nuzzling at Stiles’ pulse point on his throat. “Traffic stop gone wrong, your dad said. You’ve been out for over twenty-four hours.”

“Damn,” Stiles said, reaching up to rub at his head gingerly. “I feel so out of it.”

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” Peter said in a rush, clutching at Stiles’ hand. “If I ever had a doubt of you being stronger than me, this got rid of it. I can’t stand to see you here.”

Stiles smiled, squeezing his Peter’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I love you,” Peter whispered against his skin, kissing Stiles’ hand before leaning forward and kissing his forehead. “I’ll go let the nurses know you’re awake and maybe we can take you home.” He gently brushed Stiles’ messy bedhead back, cupping his face before pulling away and slipping out the door.

…..

“Peter, the doctor said I was fine. You don’t have to hover,” Stiles teased him as Peter flitted around the kitchen, cooking while keeping an eye on Stiles to see if he had so much as twitched like he was thinking of standing.

Stiles’ snake curled around his leg, slithering up his body before coiling around his neck. Stiles sighed with a soft smile, softly brushing his fingers down its head.

The otter squeaked, playing with Peter’s pant leg and almost making the man trip when he tried to step towards the refrigerator. It looked up at Peter offended—which was really just adorable, even Stiles could admit—before it scampered over to Stiles and curled up in his lap.

“You’re supposed to take it easy,” Peter responded, plating the meal he’d perfected and serving it before Stiles with a small flourish. Stiles sent him a humored look, but his eyes were warm and Peter was just happy his mate was safe. “I just want you to follow the doctor’s orders.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, taking a bite of food and nearly melting in satisfaction; Peter was an excellent cook. “Right, and you’re not mother-henning me at all,” Stiles said after he’d swallowed, shaking his head.

“Just let me,” Peter murmured, curling his foot around Stiles’ and sliding just a bit closer. Stiles smiled indulgently and didn’t argue, letting Peter continue to hover and take care of him.

“I’d be lost without you,” Peter revealed that night, curled against Stiles and gently running his hand up and down Stiles’ skin.

“I’m here,” Stiles whispered, nuzzling his nose against Peter’s and shifting just a bit closer. Their legs entwined easily and the otter squeaked as they disturbed it where it had settled to sleep. Stiles giggled. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, as the otter twirled at their feet to get comfortable again. The snake coiled around the otter protectively while basking in the body heat it provided.

Peter chuckled lightly, chastely kissing the corner of Stiles’ mouth before they both settled down once more for sleep. Just like the snake, he wrapped his precious mate in his arms and held him close, breathing in Stiles’ scent. Stiles smiled with his eyes closed, nuzzling under his chin, happy to be held.


End file.
